As Phony As It Can Be
by Got A Book
Summary: Counterfeit money and a counterfeit Green Hornet have Britt distracted. Can he solve the mystery before he is caught or killed by trigger-happy police?
1. Default Chapter

THE GREEN HORNET  
AS PHONY AS IT CAN BE  
PREFACE

A couple of apologies are in order for this fanfic. First, to my fellow southpaws, I apologize for making the "creep" in the story a lefty. But remember, that's why we're special: if the villain were right-handed it wouldn't be worth mentioning! Secondly, apologies to the memory of Harold Morrison, whose name I chose for one of the villains. (Harold Morrison was a gifted banjo player who was a regular on the Wilburn Brothers' syndicated TV show in the 60s.)

I'd also like to acknowledge the origins of four items. Speaking of the Wilburn Brothers, one of their song titles ("Hurt Her Once for Me") is paraphrased in the story. I took the license number from the title of the song "Jenny (867-5309)" by Tommy Tutone. Lou Grant must be credited as the originator of the "inflammatory adjectives" phrase. Finally, the title comes from a line in the song "It's Only a Paper Moon".

As always, with much admiration and respect to the creators and actors of _The Green Hornet_,

Karen  
November 2004


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Stone walls concealed the grounds behind them. Only the trees and a few tall bushes were visible from the street. The wrought iron gate, the one spot that permitted any visibility into the fortified property, provided sight of a blacktop drive and a guard house but little else. Privacy was the rule at this home, and posted signs, complete with warnings about armed patrols enforcing that rule, clarified anything that the other not so subtle indicators might leave in doubt.

A black car stopped at the gate. The guard on duty saw the green headlights and pushed a button on a control panel just below the window. The iron gate slid to the right on a track. The guard stuck his hand out the window and motioned the car through. He watched the car pass without any direct glance at the occupants. After the car cleared the gate the guard pushed the button that electronically sealed the driveway. He then picked up a phone and punched a button. When the other end connected he said, "The Green Hornet is here."

The Black Beauty, the nickname of the sedan, came to a stop in front of a two-story home. The drive made a semi-circle in front of the house to allow for easy access to the front door. The doors were solid oak, situated in the center of the house. White columns on either side stood guard across the front. In the twilight the lights behind velvet curtains indicated which rooms were occupied.

The car's left rear door opened and the Green Hornet emerged from the back seat. He stood tall, dressed in a green overcoat, fedora, and mask. Even though his face was partially concealed by the mask, he still easily projected an expression that intimidated.

Equally intimidating was Kato Ikano, the chauffeur dressed completely in black, including the mask on his face. He was shorter than the Hornet, and slighter in build, but what he lacked in stature he more than adequately compensated for with his blinding speed in the martial art of gung fu.

Kato joined the Hornet on the path that led to the front door. The Hornet's gloved finger pressed the doorbell. From behind the doors the men heard the chimes ringing the tune from Big Ben in the Tower of London.

A man between Kato's and the Hornet's heights answered the door. No words were exchanged. The man, dressed in a dark brown business suit, stepped back from the opened space to allow the Hornet and Kato to enter. Once inside the foyer, they waited while the man shut the door behind them. He then motioned with his index finger for the masked men to follow. The threesome walked past a staircase to double doors that stretched nearly the entire height of the wall. The man knocked on the door. "Come in," came the call from the other side of the doors, clearly audible in spite of the imposing size of the doors. The man opened the door, standing with his hand on the knob and his back against the door as the Hornet and Kato walked past. After they cleared the door the man walked out, closing the door and turning his body to keep his back against the door as he left.

The room was decorated as a library. Most of three of the walls in the room were lined with bookcases. Furniture consisted mainly of sofas situated in L shapes in the corners near the doors, forming squares on two sides with the bookcases. The wall opposite the door was filled with windows and a patio door that led to a porch outside. Directly in front of the door was an oak desk, behind which stood Harold Morrison. The man was attired in a brown three piece suit, the vest a slightly lighter shade of brown than the jacket and trousers. Morrison's face carried wrinkles and scars from age and experience. His hair showed black losing a battle with gray for dominance.

"Good evening, Hornet," he smiled with an extended hand. "I'm very happy you accepted my invitation." The Hornet shook Morrison's hand as a formality. The leather glove on the Hornet's right hand bothered Morrison, as did the cold expression on the lips. "May I offer you a drink?" Morrison asked robotically, gesturing to a bar sitting below a large mirror on the wall to the Hornet's right.

"I'm here for business, Morrison, not a cocktail party," the Hornet replied curtly. "Why did you ask for me?"

The short, stinging answer and tone slightly surprised Morrison. He gave a quick thought to the connection between the insect and the attitude of the man who concealed his identity by naming himself after that insect. Much like a buzzing hornet, the man annoyed Morrison. "All business, eh?" Morrison said. "I like that." Morrison sank into the chair behind his desk. The two masked men stood in front, silently refusing the gestured offer of seats. "That's exactly why I contacted you. You _are_ all business. I know your reputation, and you're very much like me. I pick my associates very carefully, and I want you to be one of those associates."

"For what?"

"I have a friend who is planning to move his operation here this week. I want to be able to pick and choose the partners for this new venture. And, of course, to keep the cops out of it." Morrison's tone turned suddenly angry. "I don't want to do all the hard work and then have some two-bit hood try to muscle in on the fruits of our labor."

"And how does that involve me?"

Morrison opened the top left drawer in his desk. "I need you to run 'interference', so to speak. I want you to keep anyone from learning about our impending set-up, and keep them from trying to interrupt it."

"And what's in it for me?"

Morrison pulled a bulky manila envelope out of the drawer and laid it on the desk directly in front of the Hornet. "Once we're up and running, your part will be one million dollars for your services." Morrison gestured toward the envelope. "Here's five thousand dollars as a 'thank-you' for listening to my proposition. I want you to think it over, then come back tomorrow evening – shall we say, same time – with your answer."

The Hornet picked the envelope up. "Tomorrow," he said, "same time." He turned and left, Kato right behind him.

Morrison went to the patio door and watched. He saw the Black Beauty pull away from the house. He returned to his desk and pressed an intercom button. "Yes?" came a man's voice over the speaker.

"Did you get what you need?" Morrison asked, looking toward the mirror as if he were talking to his reflection.

"I got everything."

"Can you start tonight?"

"Give me about an hour, and I'll be ready."

A sadistic smile crossed Morrison's face, which reflected back to him from the mirror. "By the end of the week," he announced into the intercom, "the Green Hornet will be either dead or in jail, and we'll be a million dollars richer."

* * *

Kato saw the puzzled expression on the Green Hornet's face when he looked in the rear view mirror. Since leaving Morrison's house neither man had said anything. The Hornet held the manila envelope in his hands, glancing at the package occasionally. He had briefly checked the contents to ensure that nothing menacing, such as explosives, was inside. Five stacks of money, neatly bundled together with paper seals, were the only occupants of the envelope.

The third time Kato saw the Hornet's head shake was enough. "What's wrong?" he asked, the Asian accent of his childhood permeating his flawless English.

"Everything's wrong, Kato," the Hornet sighed. "Harold Morrison doesn't need me to 'run interference' for him. He's got plenty of muscle men for that."

"What was that meeting about, then?" Kato asked, balancing his gaze between the road and the mirror.

"That's even more puzzling. Morrison's never paid up front for anything." The Hornet turned a light on in the back seat. He dumped the contents of the envelope into the empty seat next to him. The Hornet picked up one of the packets of money that tumbled out, removed the seal, and thumbed through the one hundred dollar bills. Something caught his eye, so he held the bill that piqued his interest up to the light. After a moment of examination he said, "This bill's counterfeit!"

"Counterfeit?" Kato repeated. "I thought Morrison was a money laundering and political graft man."

"He is, but apparently he's branching out." The Hornet shoved the bills back into the envelope.

"Any chance Morrison might not know it's counterfeit?" Kato asked.

"When it comes to money, Harold Morrison does everything except memorize the serial numbers."

* * *

Three stacks of one hundred dollar bills sat on the desk in Britt Reid's townhouse den. The piles were of varying heights, secured together with rubber bands. A microscope also sat on the desk, curiously out of place in the den of a newspaper publisher. The den was populated with the two residents of the house. Britt was a handsome man with dark hair, soft blue eyes, and a solid build. He sat behind the desk while his Asian valet Kato stood nearby. Like Britt, he had handsome facial features. Unlike Britt, who was casually attired, Kato wore a white formal serving jacket and black bow tie.

"Are these the only real ones?" Britt asked, tapping the smallest stack of money.

Kato nodded. "Only five were real."

An alarm sounding in the den abruptly interrupted the discussion. The noise was not a stereotypical buzzer, bell, or siren; rather, more of a synthesized tone. Unless someone knew what the tone was, it would be impossible to label the sound as a warning.

"Scanlon," Britt said. He spun around in his chair to face the built-in bookcases behind his desk and tilted three different tomes out, one at a time, at a 45 degree angle. He then turned to watch the fireplace and mantle rise. Behind the fireplace, a small cage-like elevator descended as the wall rose. A man was inside the device, holding to the sides until the elevator stopped. A step, made of the same silver steel as the elevator, automatically popped out as the device came to a halt. The man inside waited for the step to discharge from beneath the floor of the cage before getting off. Once the man stepped inside the den, Britt returned the books to their upright position. The cage simultaneously ascended as the fireplace wall dropped.

Frank Scanlon was once so astonished by the concealed elevator that permitted him to sneak into Britt Reid's home that he would stand in amazed silence and watch the device engage. He still had a healthy respect for the way Kato had rigged the elevator, and would still occasionally comment on it or any of the other devices the young Korean scientist created. This was not one of those nights, however, for compliments. Frank's face showed concern.

Because Britt was behind the desk, Kato reached Frank first. "Mr. Scanlon," he said, politely offering his hand.

"Good evening, Kato," Frank said. After warmly shaking Kato's hand, Frank turned to Britt. "Good evening." After the two men broke their handshake Frank emitted a nervous chuckle. "'Good evening'," he said sarcastically. "Boy is _that_ a misnomer!"

Frank and Britt were approximately the same height, but Frank's build was slighter than Britt's. He wore glasses, usually for reading. Even at the late hour he was dressed in a dark gray business suit.

"I'll say," Britt agreed. He gestured to the money on his desk near the microscope.

"What's that?" Frank asked.

"Counterfeit money," Britt replied. "Forty five hundred dollars' worth."

Frank's concern shifted to the money. He accepted a bill from Britt. "This is real," Britt said. Frank removed his glasses and stared carefully at the one hundred dollar bill. As Frank inspected the money, Britt pulled a bill from the second pile. "This one," he said, drawing Frank's attention from his study of the first dollar, "is obviously fake."

Frank nodded almost immediately upon examining the second sample. "Yes, I can see," he confirmed. "I think a 5-year-old could do better."

"Agreed. But, look at this." Britt handed Frank a bill from the largest of the three stacks. Frank examined the bill without his glasses, then put his glasses on to examine the money. After a few seconds of inspection he removed the glasses again, then held the money in question in his left hand while holding the genuine bill in his right. Finally he shrugged. "I can't tell," he said in resignation. "It _looks_ real."

"It's not," Britt said. "Look at it under the microscope. You'll see the slightest difference in the paper fiber."

"Where did you get this?"

"Harold Morrison," Britt replied.

"Morrison? The king of money laundering and graft is moving into counterfeiting?"

"Could be," Britt replied. "He said he has an associate moving into town this week. He paid the Green Hornet five thousand to just listen to an offer."

"Forty five hundred of which was in counterfeit hundred dollar bills," Kato added.

"Well," Frank said with a slight smile, "we'll just turn this over to the Secret Service. Counterfeiting is their department."

"What are you going to tell them, Frank? The Green Hornet paid his light bill with one of these phony hundreds?"

The hint of a smile disappeared from Frank's face. "You're right."

"Anyway, Morrison's got something else up his sleeve. He doesn't need the Green Hornet for muscle, so why did he invite him out for a 'meeting'? And, if he's moving a counterfeit ring in from out of town and the feds move in now, the counterfeiters stay out of town – and free. Let's sit on this for a while, Frank. I want to see _exactly_ what he's up to, and why he's involving the Green Hornet."

"Speaking of the Green Hornet," Frank said, a concerned expression on his face and in his voice. "The main reason I came over was so you would hear this from a friend and not page one of the _Daily Sentinel_ tomorrow. About a half an hour ago, a woman living near Branch Park was beaten and stabbed. She told police her attacker was the Green Hornet."

The same eyes that had shot cold steel in Harold Morrison's direction from behind a green mask three hours earlier now stared at the city District Attorney with a pained glare.

* * *

_Green Hornet Attacks Woman_ blared across the width of page one of the _Daily Sentinel_ in angry black letters. The article featured several paragraphs detailing the shock and fury the police felt toward the perpetration of the crime. The information about the victim included the good news that she was expected to survive her injuries.

Lenore Case hated the headline. Britt Reid's secretary was "Casey" to everyone. She was a pretty young woman with dark blond hair who normally had a ready smile. The smile was nowhere to be found as she poured over the article. The news was difficult to digest. To compound the ill feeling in Casey's stomach, crime reporter Mike Axford paced back and forth in Casey's office like a caged tiger waiting to be released so he could devour something.

Mike was red headed, but the stereotypical anger only manifested itself when the subject of the city's most notorious criminal arose. Mike had worked for the _Sentinel_ since Britt's father hired him to cover crime. He was older now, and in many ways a relic of the bygone days of newspaper publishing. What Mike lacked in modern know-how he more than compensated for with passion for his job and a desire to see criminals get the justice they deserved.

"Mike," Casey said with a tone of frustration, "would you please sit down? You're creating a breeze every time you walk by."

Mike pointed to the closed door to his left. "Where's Britt?" he scowled.

_Probably home, trying to avoid your ranting_, Casey thought to herself. _The last thing Britt needs right now is you piling on like a football player_. She held her thought, however, and shrugged. "He's probably doing a few errands before he comes in. He's a big boy, Mike. He doesn't have to report everything he does to you OR me."

Casey's door opened and Britt Reid walked in. He had the morning edition of the _Sentinel_ under his right arm. Usually he had a smile for his secretary, but not this morning. Casey hardly expected him to be in a cheery mood. "Good morning, Mr. Reid," she said quietly.

"Morning, Miss Case," he said. Their eyes made contact. Casey's were emanating sympathy, while Britt's clearly said he did not want to deal with Mike. He put his hand on the doorknob that separated his private office from his secretary's and turned it without acknowledging Mike's presence. Whether he spoke to Mike would not matter, and Britt knew that. He heaved a sigh before walking into his office. Mike followed without an invitation.

Britt reached his desk, but did not sit down. "Not this early in the morning, Mike," he pleaded.

"You wanna hear something?" Mike said. He put his index finger on the headline of the paper Britt had laid on his desk. "The scuttlebutt around the district station is that the officers are taking up a collection. Whoever gets the Green Hornet gets the money."

"That's nice," Britt mused. "We're resorting to vigilante justice? Mercenary police? That's the _last_ thing we need from our police force."

"But, Boss…"

"Mike," Britt said, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He had spent most of the morning commute to work rehearsing the speech he was about to make. "Let me remind you of something. We still have a judicial system that is governed by a rule that we call 'innocent until proven guilty'. That goes for everyone, _including_ the Green Hornet."

"Why are you sticking up for that creep?" Mike snapped. "**_Especially_** after he sinks to a new low, even for him?"

"Because I'm not sure it was the Green Hornet," Britt replied, trying to maintain his composure against Mike's tirade.

"You're not sure? That poor woman he brutalized was sure!"

"This doesn't fit his M.O. With all that sophisticated weaponry you say he has, why would he resort to something as primitive as a knife? And, he's a big stakes money criminal. Where's his financial gain in attacking a woman?"

"But Boss," Mike attempted to interject.

"Mike, _you _could come in here in a mask and green coat and be accused of being the Green Hornet. That doesn't mean you _are_, does it?"

Mike paused for a moment to consider his boss's rationale, but his anger continued unabated. He hurried for the door. "If he survives getting caught," he said, "I'll volunteer to throw the switch!" Mike closed the door behind him, surprisingly not slamming it.

Britt sank into his chair. He stared at the headline on page one almost as if staring at it long enough would make the words disappear from the paper. When he finally looked away he saw Casey at her desk, watching through the window that separated their offices. Britt motioned for her with his finger. As if she had been waiting to be summoned into the office she left her desk and entered Britt's office, closing the door behind her. By the time she entered the office Britt's eyes were back on the story his paper had published.

Casey said nothing, but went to where her employer sat. She put her hand on his shoulder, an unusual move on her part. Britt was slightly surprised and looked quickly up at her. She managed a smile of comfort, which Britt found himself struggling to return. "What a horrible thing to be accused of," Casey said quietly. "I can't imagine how you feel about this."

Britt found a smile easier to produce after Casey spoke. "Thanks, Casey," he said equally softly. "You're right, it's rough. Fortunately, Scanlon stopped by last night and warned me this was coming."

"Do you have any idea who it is?" Casey asked.

"Not who, and not _why_," Britt replied. "And, if this isn't bad enough, Harold Morrison is up to something. What, I don't know."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Thanks, Miss Case, but not right now."

"If you need to talk…" Casey let her smile finish the sentence for her. She left Britt's office and returned to her desk. As she sat down she took another look through the window, trying to soothe the pain she felt for Britt. Mike Axford had verbally crucified the Green Hornet countless times in Britt's presence with no clue that he was talking to the man behind the mask when he made his verbal assaults. Mike's attacks had always rolled off Britt's back effortlessly. This time, however, was different.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Much like the previous evening, the Black Beauty snaked down Harold Morrison's drive to the house. The same man, wearing either the same suit or a duplicate of the one the night before, answered the door and escorted the Green Hornet and Kato to the library. Morrison was again at his desk, this time attired in varying shades of gray. The Hornet entered the library and marched to Morrison's desk, the manila envelope in his hand. The expression on his lips told Morrison the cliché of being "mad as a hornet" could not have been more apropos. "I see you were busy last night," Morrison commented coolly, pausing to emphasize the word "busy" with raised eyebrows.

The Hornet threw the envelope down on the desk, scattering some papers as it landed. "Yes, I _was_ busy, Morrison," he said. "I was busy sorting out the counterfeit money in your alleged 'thank-you gift.' Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"

Morrison chuckled. "Well, you've seen the merchandise. What did you think? Very good forgeries, wouldn't you say?"

"Very good," the Hornet replied, "but I don't work for counterfeit money."

"Oh, you won't," Morrison assured. "But, would you have believed me if I had told you my associate from out of town was coming with plates that are exact duplicates of the U.S. Mint's plates? Unless, that is, I gave you proof?"

"So you're getting into the counterfeiting business?" the Hornet said. "Going to pay those political grafts with phony money now?"

"No," Morrison said. "I'm more in 'management'."

"All right, what's the plan?"

Morrison paced a couple of times, stopping to stare at the two masked men. "Quite frankly, Hornet, I'm having second thoughts about you after that little stunt you pulled last night."

"That _wasn't_ me," the Hornet seethed.

"Oh, yes," Morrison said with a laugh, "we have so many Green Hornets in this city…"

Kato was behind the desk before either the Hornet or Morrison knew what was happening. He forced Morrison into the leather chair behind the desk. Morrison stared at Kato with a shocked expression, a look that instantaneously turned to fear as Kato thrust his right hand toward the man's throat. Kato's hand stopped so close Morrison could feel the glove against his skin as he exhaled. "The Green Hornet **_does not_** attack women," Kato snapped. "Do you understand?" Morrison's hazel eyes were wide with dread, staring at the lethal hand next to his throat and the angry expression on the face of the hand's owner. Morrison nodded that he understood, his chin bumping against Kato's hand with each motion of his head. Kato dropped his hand and returned to the Hornet's side.

Morrison started to say something about Kato's short fuse, but he realized how quickly the man could be at his throat again. He thought better of uttering his comment and simply muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Perhaps we should both cool down," the Hornet offered. "I'll call you tomorrow night, and you can decide if you want me or not." The two men left without another word or so much as a glance over their shoulders.

Morrison went to the window to watch the Black Beauty head toward the street. He was no longer frightened. Instead, he was laughing, almost uncontrollably. He opened the patio door and a man entered. He was laughing as well. He was dressed exactly like the Green Hornet. "I think he's mad," the man dressed as the Green Hornet said sarcastically as if admonishing a child.

Morrison nodded. "He could be dangerous that way, but I think he'll also be susceptible to the trap in that mood."

"Did that chauffeur hurt you?"

"Nah." Morrison glanced at his watch. "You'd better get going."

The man in green nodded and disappeared into the night.

* * *

The silence in the Black Beauty was as heavy and the thoughts plodding through Britt Reid's mind. The green mask that concealed his identity lay on the seat next to him as he rubbed his eyes. Kato watched in the rear view mirror from the driver's seat. His voice, unusually soft, broke the uneasy quiet. "I apologize for my actions at Morrison's," Kato said.

Britt looked up and made eye contact via the mirror. He smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"I just can't stand to have you accused of stabbing and beating a woman."

"I can't stand it, either."

The phone in the back of the car rang. Britt turned around and saw the line that was blinking. He realized Frank Scanlon was on the other end. He picked up the phone and pushed the button. "Yes, Frank?"

"Guess who's struck again?"

"Please tell me you're joking."

"Britt, you know I can joke better than that. It was just called in. This victim has a broken arm and several stab wounds. The wounds aren't serious. Apparently this guy's not trying to kill the women."

"Anyone who'd do this would want his victims to suffer. The psychological scars don't heal the way the physical ones do." An idea hit Britt. "I can tell you a crime the real Green Hornet _is_ going to commit tonight."

"What?"

"Kidnapping."

"Kidnapping? Who?"

"Mike Axford. I'm going on the offensive. I'll talk to you later."

"Britt?" Frank said. "Be careful. There's a rumor going around…"

"That any cop who kills the Green Hornet gets a pot of money. I've heard." Britt hung the phone up. He made eye contact with Kato when he turned back around. Kato was looking in the rear view mirror, awaiting orders. He watched Britt slide the green mask onto his face. "Drive to the _Daily Sentinel_."

* * *

The Black Beauty rolled through the parking lot of the _Daily Sentinel_. Most of the staff had gone home, leaving a few cars scattered throughout the lot. The Hornet spied the car he was looking for – the red car that belonged to Mike Axford. Kato maneuvered the Black Beauty to the front of the building that housed the paper and DSTV. He parked the car and turned the police scanner on, listening intently for any notification that a police car might be in the vicinity of their location.

Mike was a creature of habit. He always stopped to get a sandwich at a deli near the paper when he was shuttling between the police station and the paper. With a fresh crime laid at the feet of the Green Hornet, Mike would undoubtedly be returning from interviewing the police to pound out a story about the evil Green Hornet, hitting the keys on his typewriter with a ferocity that he only wished he could transfer to the head of the villain.

Kato and the Hornet simultaneously spotted Mike returning to the _Sentinel_ building from dinner. Kato left the car and moved to the entrance of the building. Since the doors were not flush with the front of the building, Mike could not see Kato standing at the door waiting for him. When Mike cleared the corner of the building, his steps aimed toward the door, Kato moved on him quickly. Before Mike could react Kato was driving him backwards toward the car. Mike recovered his senses and attempted to run, but Kato anticipated his move and blocked his escape. Mike found his back against the right rear panel of the Black Beauty, a horrified look on his face. Kato continued advancing as the right rear door opened. "Get in the car," Kato instructed, "or I'll put you in it."

Mike's back was near the open space. The Hornet reached his right hand out and grabbed Mike by the waistband of his trousers. With a swift pull Mike found himself falling into the car. He instinctively ducked to avoid hitting his head as his body slid into the back seat. Kato pushed Mike's feet into the car and slammed the door shut before running to the driver's door to get in.

"You," Mike sneered as the car pulled away from the curb. He knew he was in danger, and conceded to himself that the Hornet was going to kill him. He knew there was no way he could win a fight against the man. Since his fate was already sealed, the crusty reporter saw no reason to withhold his pent-up anger. He took a feeble swing at the Hornet with his right hand. Had the punch landed it would have caused no pain because the confined space allowed no room to put leverage behind the fist. The Hornet intercepted Mike's swing and returned the arm to its position on the right side of Mike's body. The Hornet took care to inflict only minimal discomfort, primarily by the strength of his grip on Mike's forearm.

"Relax, Axford."

"I hear you've been at it again tonight," Mike said venomously.

"That's not me," the Hornet said, "and I want that made known. I just saw Britt Reid and told him I was coming to see you. Do you have a notepad?" Mike pulled his notepad out of the pocket inside his crumpled brown suit jacket. "Good." The Hornet turned the light on in the back seat so Mike could see to take notes. "I want you to write this down and publish it in tomorrow's _Sentinel_. The Green Hornet – the _real_ Green Hornet – is _not_ behind the attacks on women last night and tonight." Mike sat motionless, staring at the hornet between the eyes on the green mask. Only when the Hornet gestured with his hand for Mike to take notes did the reporter flip the cover of his notepad back and scribble the words on a clean sheet of paper. "And you put this in big banner letters on page one," the Hornet continued, leaning close to Mike. "In fact, you put this on every page of your paper tomorrow. Whoever is doing this had better hope and pray the cops get to him before I do, because if **_I_** get to him first they'll never find all of him. You got that?"

"You think Britt Reid's gonna print this?" Mike said.

"Why don't you call him at his home and ask him?" the Hornet suggested. "He was rather agreeable when we talked a few minutes ago."

Kato had circled the block a couple of times while the Hornet was giving the one-sided interview to Mike. He stopped the car in front of the _Sentinel_ building. The Hornet motioned for Mike to get out of the car. Mike did not need a second invitation to leave and darted out of the car, not bothering to close the door as he ran for the _Sentinel_ doors and safety.

The Black Beauty went around the block again. This time Kato pulled into the nearly deserted parking lot and stopped the car. After a minute the phone in the back rang. The Hornet looked at which line was blinking. He saw it was Britt Reid's home number, which had been transferred to the mobile phone. "It's Mike, right on time." He picked up the receiver and stretched the cord across the seat, handing the phone to Kato. He then turned around and pushed the blinking button.

"Mr. Reid's residence," Kato answered.

"Kato? Is the Boss there?"

"Just a moment." Kato handed the phone back to the Hornet, announcing, "It's Mike Axford."

"Yes, Mike?"

"Britt, you're not going to believe what just happened to me."

"You interviewed the Green Hornet?"

"How did you know?"

"He stopped by here and said he was going to talk to you. He emphatically stated that he is not the person committing the attacks, and he wants that out for the public to know."

"You're not going to publish that, are you?" Mike sneered.

"I most certainly _am_ going to publish it," Britt said, "and I want you to write everything he told you in that article. I want it on page one tomorrow."

"But why?" Mike pleaded. "Why are you giving that creep the publicity?"

"I told you this morning, Mike, I didn't think this was the work of the Green Hornet. And, if we publish his warning, the person committing the crimes just might get scared and stop attacking women."

"On the other hand," Mike said, "it might be a smokescreen to get the cops looking for another Green Hornet while he goes on his merry way."

"Run with the story, Mike," Britt said. "This'll be a big scoop for us. And, if there is a phony Green Hornet, this just might help flush him out."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The assignment was difficult, perhaps the most troubling article Mike ever found himself authoring. He managed to set aside his personal feelings of hatred for the Green Hornet after a number of discarded sheets of paper on which he threw a generous serving of inflammatory adjectives in the Hornet's direction, and produce the lead story for the paper's morning edition. Mike's byline was under the banner headline _Green Hornet Denies Responsibility for Crimes_ on page one.

As with the previous day, Mike was pacing a track into the carpet in Casey's office awaiting Britt's arrival. Casey was still upset over the crime spree, and still concerned over what Mike might spew at Britt. She could tell Mike was upset over the fact that he had to be objective in print on the subject of the Green Hornet and knew he was chomping at the bit to take the frustration he omitted from his article out on someone. Casey was aware of the fact that Britt was behind the story, in more than one way, so Britt would be the target of the tirade Mike was preparing to unleash.

"Mike," Casey said, "if you wear the carpet out in here, I'm telling Mr. Reid and he'll make you replace it out of your salary."

"Can you believe I wrote that?" Mike snarled, pointing to the copy of the _Sentinel_ Casey was reading.

"You did an excellent job, Mike," Casey said with a smile, attempting to soothe the reporter's feelings. "I know this was hard for you to write, but you should be very proud of this article."

"Bah!"

Casey found a paragraph and read aloud. "'The Green Hornet told this reporter in an exclusive interview that he is not the one attacking women. Two women have been attacked in the past two nights, each identifying their assailant as the Green Hornet. But the notorious criminal reiterated that it is an imposter behind the crime spree.' And not once did you call him a 'creep'."

"You don't know how many times I _did_," Mike replied. "I just didn't _type_ it."

Britt opened the door with his name and title on it. "Good morning," he said, forcing a smile behind the greeting.

"Good morning, Mr. Reid," Casey said, duplicating the pained expression from the day before.

Mike had his mouth open, but Britt stopped him before he could start. "_Excellent_ article, Mike," Britt said with a pat to Mike's back.

Britt went into his office, his red-headed shadow behind him. One of the things Mike Axford loved about the _Daily Sentinel_ was the strong stand the paper took against criminals. Mike could never have imagined in his wildest dreams that Britt, a man Mike had known from birth because of his long connection with the Reid family, was the much-vilified Green Hornet.

"It galls me," Mike said.

"I'm well aware of that, but it doesn't come out in the article."

Mike spun on his heels and walked toward the door, seeing Britt was unreceptive to listening to his outburst. "I just hope the cops will talk to me after this," he mumbled as he left.

After Mike cleared the door that led to the city room Casey picked up the paper and took his place in Britt's office. "I sense a plan," she said as Britt sank into his chair.

"I hope it works," Britt said. "I don't know anything more about what Morrison's up to; plus, I have _this_ to deal with."

"What about Mr. Scanlon's take on these attacks?" Casey asked.

"He hasn't said if he thinks they're random or if there's a pattern," Britt replied. "The only thing he has said is that the person doing the attacks is aiming to injure, not kill."

Casey shuddered. "It's frightening."

"Yes, it is," Britt admitted. "Kato's coming by at lunch to take you to your apartment. He's got some sensors that'll sound an alarm in case anyone tries to break into your place."

* * *

Mitchell Blake stood at Mike's side in Casey's office. He was a man slightly taller than Mike, and considerably younger. He had handsome facial features, but his brown eyes revealed an underlying bitterness. He wore a sharp brown suit, looking the opposite of Mike's suit that appeared to have been slept in more than one night.

Mike kept glaring out the window that gave a view of the city room from Casey's office, then turning to Blake and shrugging. After a few moments he grew impatient and rapped on Britt's closed door. "Come in," came the call from the other side of the door.

"Boss," Mike said as he opened the door, "sorry to disturb you. I was waiting for Casey, but…"

"She's at lunch," Britt said. "I _do_ let her eat occasionally." Mike laughed at Britt's joke. "What's up?"

"Councilman Blake wants to see you," Mike replied, gesturing at the man standing at the door.

Britt rose from his desk and walked to the door. "Councilman," he said with his hand extended. "Please, come in." Mike started out after Blake came in. "Thanks, Mike," Britt called. Mike replied with a wave over his shoulder as he left Casey's office.

"Mr. Reid," Blake said coldly, stiffly shaking Britt's hand.

"My secretary's at lunch," Britt said. "I'm sorry if you had to wait. You should've called…"

"Having to wait is the least of my problems," Blake said. "I am appalled at the fact that this newspaper, which I once considered the most respectable paper not only in this city but in this state, would sink so low as to print an interview with the Green Hornet!" His words were uttered in the manner of a fierce attack rather than a comment.

Britt gestured toward a chair in front of his desk. Blake refused to sit, but Britt went behind his desk and sat down. "Councilman Blake," he said calmly, "I appreciate your concern. However, we have a madman on the loose in this city, attacking women. This article is most relevant to that fact."

"What's next?" Blake said, leaning over the desk. "A series of interviews with death row inmates, giving them the front page opportunity to allege that they 'didn't do it,' too? And, you're allowing this lowlife to use your paper to convey threats to people?"

"It would seem to me that the only person who should be concerned over that 'threat' would be the person who's impersonating the Green Hornet."

"You believe that pack of lies he told your reporter?"

"First, Mr. Councilman," Britt replied, "I don't know for a fact that what he said _is_ 'a pack of lies'. Secondly, I don't think anyone as wanted as the Green Hornet would run the risk of getting caught just so he could feed one of our reporters a story if there wasn't some truth to it." He was already tired of the councilman's diatribe. He rose from his seat and moved toward the door. "However, Councilman Blake, we have an editorial policy that welcomes criticism of our news coverage. I would like to invite you to submit an editorial outlining your objections, and we will publish it on page one." Britt opened the door without a word. Blake took the hint and left in a huff, not offering a word of farewell or to shake the publisher's hand.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Britt sat in the back of the Black Beauty in a blue business suit. Kato was in his black chauffeur's uniform and mask. Kato maneuvered the car through alleys and side streets in the dark, watching for any sight of a police car. Awareness of the police's location was normally an important component of being out on the streets in the Black Beauty. Tonight, it was vital. The duo patrolled the streets near Casey's apartment, hoping that the electric eyes that Kato had installed would not trigger the alarm.

Britt picked up the phone in the back of the car and dialed Harold Morrison's home. The mobile phone was equipped with a scrambler that prevented anyone from taping the call or tracing the number. He took every precaution to guarantee that his secret remained just that to ensure his fight against crime in the guise of a criminal would successfully continue.

"Hello?" Morrison said in the phone.

"Morrison, this is the Green Hornet. Decision time. Do you want me tomorrow or not?"

"Yes," Morrison replied. "We will rendezvous at Hogan Park, by the old drained fountain, tomorrow night at 11 p.m. From there, we will meet up with Mr. Keith Patrick and escort his 'printing press' to his new base of operations. Once we're up and running, you will receive one million dollars cash. _Real_ cash, Hornet."

"I'll be there tomorrow night." Britt hung the phone up. "Tomorrow night at 11," he told Kato, "at the old fountain in Hogan Park. He's bringing Keith Patrick in."

"Keith Patrick?" Kato said. "Isn't he one of the most wanted counterfeiters in the country?"

"Yes," Britt said. "I guess the temperature's getting a little too hot for him in St. Louis, so he's moving here."

In Morrison's study, Harold Morrison stood with his hand on the phone receiver that he had just replaced. The man dressed as the Green Hornet was next to him. "It's all set, then," Morrison said. "The 'Green Hornet' will commit two more attacks, one tonight and one tomorrow evening. The real Green Hornet will show up at Hogan Park at 11, thinking he's meeting us to bring Patrick's counterfeit operation into town."

"Instead," the man dressed as the Hornet said, "he'll be greeted by police."

"Right, and Patrick will pay us a million dollars for getting the Hornet out of the way so he can take over." Morrison looked at the clock. "Shouldn't you get going?"

"I'm on my way. I have another date who spurned me to visit."

"You're not worried about that threat he made in the paper, are you?"

The man dressed as the Green Hornet laughed. "Are you kidding? How could he possibly catch me?"

* * *

"Keith Patrick, eh?" Frank Scanlon said. "That's major trouble."

"Morrison said we're to meet at Hogan Park tomorrow night at 11," Britt said. His gaze was out the window of the car while talking with Frank on the phone as Kato drove through the deserted streets. "I don't like it, though."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know, Frank. I just have a bad feeling about this. Maybe I'm worried about these attacks."

"The ball's in your court at the moment, Britt. How do you want to play it?"

An alarm blared from the bank of switches and devices attached to the back of the front seat. "Later, Frank. The alarm Kato installed at Casey's is going off." Britt hung the phone up without a farewell to his friend. "Step on it, Kato," he said.

Kato had installed three electric eye sensors. The first was at the top of the steps in the corridor on the second floor where Casey's apartment was located. The second was outside of Casey's apartment, past the last door before Casey's apartment entrance. The last sensor silently guarded the door. Kato had set the alarm up to ring only if all three electric eyes suffered interference within a one-minute period. Someone had breeched the security. The only work the two men had planned for the evening was monitoring for the alarm, hoping the night would be uneventful. That hope was dashed with a loud blare.

Britt stayed in his business suit. They plotted, should the alarm go off, for the secretary's boss to show up and surprise the man. An employer-secretary encounter would not arouse suspicion, unlike what might happen should the Green Hornet arrive to defend Casey. When Kato reached the front of the apartment Britt jumped out, barely giving the car time to stop.

Upstairs, Casey found herself face to face with the Green Hornet in the hall that ran from the door to the living room of the apartment. "Good evening," he said with a snarl. "The Green Hornet is here to see you!" He raised his left hand, revealing a knife with a five-inch blade reflecting in the light.

Casey tried desperately to maintain her composure. She knew that help was not far away. How much damage could be done before help arrived was what frightened her. She slowly backed down the hall toward the living room, saying nothing. The man was smiling as he continued advancing toward her, finally within arm's length of Casey. As Casey reached the end of the hall Britt charged through the door. "Casey!" he called.

The sudden appearance of someone shocked the man dressed as the Green Hornet. He thrust his left hand toward Casey as he turned right to face the man coming in the apartment. As he turned Casey raised her arms to protect her body in reaction to the man's motion. The knife caught Casey's left arm near the wrist. He dragged the knife down the length of her arm, stopping near the elbow as he turned to face Britt. He lunged toward Britt, the knife out and aimed for the body. Britt sidestepped the motion and the man ran through. He did not stop, catching his balance and running off down the hall, his footsteps on the stairs echoing in the corridor outside.

Britt went to check on Casey. She threw her right arm around his waist and buried her head in his chest, sobbing as she held the injured arm out to prevent blood from dripping on him. Britt wrapped his arms tightly around Casey's shoulders.

Remembering Kato was in the car, Britt pulled a pocket watch out of his jacket. The watch was another marvel of Kato's. It kept perfect time, yet was also outfitted with a two-way radio and a transmitter that signaled Frank Scanlon via a buzzer hidden in the frame of Frank's glasses. Britt turned the stem, which activated the radio. "Kato!"

Kato picked up a microphone in the car. "He's getting in his car. You want me to follow him?"

"No. He stabbed Casey. I need you up here."

Kato took down the license number of the car the Green Hornet fled in before rushing into the apartment. He darted up the stairs and into the apartment, shutting the door with his foot behind him.

The hallway made a turn to the left at the bedroom door. The living room to Casey's apartment was at the end of the second hallway. A kitchen with an open space that served as a bar area or dining space was to the left of the living room. Two barstools sat on the side in the living room. The living room itself was typically furnished with end tables, a sofa and two matching chairs, and a television.

Britt walked Casey to the sofa and sat her down. Her face, wet from tears, was still buried in Britt's suit jacket. Kato spotted them as Britt gently moved Casey's left arm to inspect the damage. Blood ran down her arm, but not at an alarming rate. Kato ran into the kitchen and brought a towel to the sofa, putting it over Casey's wounded arm.

"We need to get out of here," Kato advised. "There were witnesses." Britt nodded and stood. Kato, on Casey's left, carefully helped Britt bring Casey to her feet, being mindful to not touch her lower arm. Britt gently pried himself free of Casey's grasp and took Kato's place to her left. He slid his right arm around her shoulder and held her injured arm parallel to the floor as they walked toward the door. Kato grabbed Casey's purse from off one of the barstools as he passed by. Britt and Casey were near the steps when Kato caught up with them after closing and locking the apartment door.

As the trio made their way toward the car Kato produced the Hornet Gun from his pocket. He pointed the gun in the general direction of Britt's back. The gun was armed with sleeping gas, not bullets; however, only those who had experience with the gun knew that truth. The scene appeared to be the Green Hornet's associate abducting two people. Kato maintained the act as he opened the right rear door of the Black Beauty and helped Britt escort Casey into the back seat. After he shut the door he hurried to the driver's seat and sped away into the night.

* * *

Casey shivered as if in a freezer as her mind replayed the knife coming toward her, followed by an onslaught of tears and whimpering. Britt sat silently, squeezing Casey's shoulder when the shuddering began until she calmed down with a few deep breaths. Then the cycle would repeat itself. Britt sat on the sofa in his den, Casey against his left shoulder. Kato was to Casey's left, still in his black uniform. The gloves, mask, and cap sat on Britt's desk. He could change after Casey was cared for. The towel Kato had grabbed in Casey's apartment was still wrapped around her arm. He repeatedly attempted to move Casey's arm to treat the knife wounds, but Casey refused to let him. After a few unsuccessful attempts Britt gently lifted Casey's arm. She winced in pain, but ceased offering resistance.

Kato removed the towel. A red scar ran the length of Casey's arm almost in a straight line from her pinky finger to the elbow. Most of the bleeding had stopped, save for a couple of places where the knife had penetrated deeper. Kato doused a cotton swab in alcohol and began cleaning the gashes. Casey reacted by jerking her arm away initially with a cry of pain. She sighed, lifting her head off Britt's shoulder to offer an apologetic glance at Kato as she willingly moved her arm back into his hands. "I'm so ashamed," she murmured.

Britt softly kissed Casey's forehead. "Don't be," he said gently. "You've been through a very traumatic experience."

"That could have been much worse," Kato said.

"Absolutely," Britt agreed. He lightly squeezed the tip of her nose between his index and middle fingers the way a big brother would when chiding a sister. "Don't you apologize for reacting this way."

The reassurance Britt provided knocked out Casey's fears the way one of Kato's chops finished off criminals. "Thanks," she said softly. "I don't know _why_ I'm still scared. I'm safer here than anywhere. Who can get past you two?" Casey looked at Britt's jacket where her face had been buried. "I'll pay the dry cleaning bill for your suit." Britt laughed and twitched her nose again.

Kato continued to apply alcohol to the cuts on Casey's arm. The sting interrupted her newfound sense of tranquility. "Ow," she complained as the alcohol seeped into the open wounds.

"Sorry, Miss Case," Kato apologized, dabbing the blood off her arm.

Casey sat up suddenly, her left arm again moving away from Kato's attempts to nurse the injury. "That man," she said, "he had the knife in his left hand."

"Good girl, Casey," Britt said. "That helps."

"How does that help?" Kato asked.

"Only 10 to 15 percent of people are left handed," Britt explained. "That fact eliminates 85 to 90 percent of the population," Britt said. He rose from the couch and went for the phone. He picked up the phone and dialed Frank Scanlon's office.

"Scanlon."

"Frank?"

"Britt! I was just getting ready to call you. The phony Green Hornet has hit again. A neighbor called the police after spotting him…"

"At Casey's apartment."

Frank dropped the phone in shock of the news. He quickly recovered and picked the receiver up. "Sorry. What happened?"

"Thankfully, not much, because we were in the neighborhood and the alarm Kato installed worked. Casey's employer was stopping by with some work, and he surprised the Green Hornet."

"Is she all right? Where is she?"

"Here, at my house. Her arm was slashed, but it looks superficial. We'll take her to the hospital if she needs it. Good news, too, Frank."

"I need some."

"Kato got his license number."

Frank grabbed a pen out of the holder on his desk. "Okay."

Britt read from the sheet of paper Kato had written the number on. "It's JEN 5309."

"I'll make a run on it and get back to you in the morning."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Casey's dream world was filled with men dressed as the Green Hornet attacking. Some were stopped in their tracks by kicks to their heads by Kato. Britt was sitting on his sofa in his Green Hornet clothing, the Hornet Sting in his right hand and Casey's shoulder in his left. He picked other imitators off as they charged toward Casey with their knives in their hands.

"Miss Case?"

The knock on the door accompanying Kato's call finished off the attacking Green Hornets as Casey woke from her dream. She took a moment to orient herself. She was in the bed in Britt's guest room. She had no recollection of how she came to be in the bed, beneath the warm blankets and fresh sheets. "Come in, Kato," she called.

Casey rolled off her right side. The blankets were barely moved out of place, a sign that she had slept soundly. She sat up and pushed the covers down. She was still in the bright blue dress she had worn the night before. A glance at her left arm, wrapped in white gauze, confirmed that the attack was not part of her dream.

Kato opened the door. Unlike the last time she saw him, he was wearing his white shirt and jacket. "Good morning, Miss Case," he said with a smile. "How are you?"

Casey stretched her arms over her head, quickly dropping her left arm down when a twinge of pain shot through the knife marks beneath the gauze. "Fine," she said. "I can't believe I was able to get any sleep." She looked at Kato. "Did I actually fall asleep, or did Mr. Reid use Hornet Gas on me?"

"You fell asleep," Kato assured her. "Would you like some breakfast? We have blueberry waffles."

"I'd love some. I'll be down in a few minutes." Kato nodded and shut the door behind him.

Britt poured two glasses of fresh orange juice from a pitcher then set the glasses on the table in the den. Kato arrived from upstairs as Britt served himself a cup of coffee. "Miss Case will be down in a few minutes," Kato announced. He began dishing out fresh fruit into glass bowls, but the alarm went off. He put the spoon down and went to the bookcase to move the books. The fireplace rose and the cage with Frank inside descended. He jumped out then Kato sent the wall back to its normal position.

"We need to set an extra place for breakfast," Britt said with a smile.

"I'll take it. I figure you owe me."

Casey arrived from upstairs. She had brushed her hair and washed her face. Frank spied her first and went to meet her. "How are you?" he asked, the concern genuine in his voice.

"I'm fine, Mr. Scanlon," Casey said with a smile. She felt relieved to feel a smile come so easily. "Thanks to some good doctoring," she added with a glance in Britt and Kato's direction.

"What's up, Frank?" Britt asked.

Frank took a seat at the table after holding the chair for Casey. "I traced that license number, but it wasn't easy."

"Why?" Britt said, surprised. "The District Attorney running a license check shouldn't arouse any suspicion."

"It does when the car belongs to a city councilman."

Britt dropped his spoon. "What?!"

"City councilman Mitchell Blake is the owner of that license number."

"That's impossible."

"No," Frank sighed, "I'm afraid not. I told the policeman running the report something about not being about to read my own handwriting. After I finished I called another district to check on a stolen report. None."

An odd look crossed Casey's face, as if her orange juice was rotten. "Wait a minute. Did you say Mitch Blake?"

"Yes," Frank said. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately," Casey said with disgust. "About three months ago, right before he was elected, he asked me to go out on a date with him. I figured I would, to get some quotes for the paper. Boy, was _that_ a mistake. He was a creep!" Casey looked at Frank and smiled apologetically. "Sorry," she said, "I guess I shouldn't refer to an elected official that way."

"That's alright, Miss Case," Frank said. "If he _is_ involved in this, then 'creep' is the _nicest_ term I'd use."

"This is getting interesting," Britt said. "Yesterday, while Casey was at lunch, Blake came to the _Sentinel_. He lambasted us for running the interview with the Green Hornet. I asked him to write a rebuttal editorial."

Frank finished the orange juice and rose from the table. "Thanks for the orange juice, but I have to go. I have a meeting in an hour with – guess who? – Councilman Blake."

Britt raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

"Yes. It seems he wants to discuss the Green Hornet situation, and what I'm doing to catch him before he attacks any more women." Frank shook his head. "I'll keep you posted what he says."

"A favor, Frank," Britt said. "Can you get him to sign something, or write something?"

"What?"

"Anything. It doesn't matter."

"I suppose I can. Why?"

"See if he's left-handed. Casey said the man who slashed her arm had the knife in his left hand. If Blake is left-handed, that puts him in a tiny minority of possible subjects." Britt held his spoon up with his right hand and dangled it between his fingers. "And it definitely eliminates the _real_ Green Hornet."

"Will do," Frank said. He walked toward the fireplace while Kato went behind the desk to activate the elevator. Frank waved his hand toward the occupants of the house as he boarded the cage to rise to the street.

After Frank left Britt turned his attention to Casey. "Do you want to take the day off?" he asked.

"Absolutely **_not_**," she replied emphatically. "This isn't going to control my life."

"Good girl." Britt pulled his keys out of his suit pocket. "Then do you feel like driving yourself to work?"

"Sure," she replied. "Why?"

"The Green Hornet is going out for a morning drive."

* * *

A two-story home sat approximately one hundred yards off the road. The wooded acreage suggested a country setting instead of city. Hedges guarded the property boundary instead of walls; and, unlike Morrison's home, the drive was free of barricades.

Kato circled the block a couple of times, the first time to ensure they had the right address and the second to check for security cameras or devices. Confident the perimeter could be crossed without setting off any alarms, Kato turned up the drive on the third pass. He stopped the Black Beauty in front of the house. As he joined the Hornet outside of the car he commented, "Nice house. I don't think the mayor's house is this big."

"That's because the mayor isn't moonlighting as a criminal," the Hornet said. He motioned with his head to the left and Kato took off around the house in that direction. The Hornet went in the opposite direction. Each man searched for an unsecured way into the home. The windows were all down on all sides of the house.

The Hornet and his chauffeur met at the back door, a patio door that led out of the house into the yard. The Hornet tried the door but it was locked, causing him to emit a frustrated sigh. Unlike a normal raid, he did not want to announce his presence. That eliminated the use of the Hornet Sting, his usual universal key that allowed access to any door by destroying the lock with ultrasonic waves. Kato, however, had an alternate means of getting past a locked door. He concentrated, took aim on the doorknob, then applied his foot to the door with a shout. The lock offered minimal resistance, and the door flew open. Kato ran inside ahead of the Hornet, standing with his feet apart and his fists doubled in preparation for an attack by anyone in the home. After a few seconds of listening to the silence Kato gestured with a nod of his head that the coast was clear.

They entered the house in the dining room. The room was a traditional formal dining room, complete with an oak dining table and china cabinet. The kitchen was immediately to the left of the door through which they entered. Beyond the dining room a corridor led to the rest of the house. The Hornet reached inside his overcoat and removed the Hornet Gun. He held it at the ready, his finger on the trigger in case he encountered anyone. Kato followed behind, looking in all directions and ready for any sudden attack.

The first closed door they encountered after leaving the dining room concealed the study. The Hornet opened the door quickly and moved in as if he was expecting someone in the room. Kato followed, still prepared to unleash his martial arts prowess on anyone who crossed their path. Confident the room was unoccupied, the Hornet moved toward the desk while Kato inspected the items on the various tables around the room.

Kato made the first discovery. "Look," he called quietly. The Hornet, making a visual inspection of the cluttered contents of the desk top, paused to join Kato at a table to the right of the desk. A telephone book was open on the table with a notepad on the open page. A pencil lay to the left of the notepad. The Hornet read the notation on the paper, a woman's name and address that was obviously copied from the page in the phone directory.

"Look at the position of the pencil," the Hornet commented. "If I had written that, I would've put the pencil here." He tapped the phone book to the immediate right of the notepad. "I think Blake's our man, all right."

"Do you think this is who he intends to attack tonight?" Kato asked.

The Hornet read a note below the name and address. "'Night nurse'," he read aloud. "'Be there at 7:30'. It's a possibility."

Kato read the name. "Paula Davis." He remembered what Casey had said at breakfast and turned his gaze to his comrade. "Do you think he might have dated her, too?"

"That might be the connection," the Hornet said. "I'll ask Scanlon to check that out." They went to the desk to resume investigating. The Hornet spied an address book beneath some papers. He carefully lifted the book from its place and opened it. A name in the **A**'s was circled in red, as was a name under the **B**'s. When he turned to the **C**'s his mouth opened. The third entry under the letter, circled in red ink, was Lenore Case. He turned to the next letter and saw Paula Davis's name, again encircled in red. "No need to ask Frank. That _is_ the connection."

At the opposite end of the desk, Kato noticed some money sticking out of a manila envelope similar to the package Harold Morrison had presented to the Hornet earlier in the week. He inspected the money before notifying the Hornet. "Look," he said, "more counterfeit hundreds. Might Blake be involved with Morrison?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Morrison once boasted he had half of City Hall on the take."

"Then Morrison might be behind Blake's impersonating you."

The Hornet inspected the envelope where Kato had discovered the money. A stack of $100 bills was inside, secured with a paper seal. A portion of another stack lay loose, a broken seal showing evidence that some of the money was in circulation. A note on lined paper was also inside the envelope. "Be at H.M.'s at 11 Thursday night," the Hornet read aloud. He pocketed some of the money. "Before we go to 'H.M.'s' tonight, we're going to make a stop at 7:30 at Paula Davis's home."

* * *

Mitchell Blake appeared in no mood to sit and rationally discuss matters with the District Attorney. Frank maintained his seat behind his desk, but the councilman frequently bounced out of his seat opposite of Frank. The rash of crimes against women, all of whom had identified the Green Hornet as their attacker, had Blake's fuse lit and near the point of explosion. For his part, Frank managed to endure the tirade although anger based on the knowledge of the license number and the fact that Casey knew Blake from an earlier encounter welled in him.

"I'm telling you, Scanlon," Blake said, sitting down momentarily, "my constituents are furious over this crime wave of the Green Hornet's. They are calling for your head, my head, the mayor's head, and the police chief's head if we don't put an end to this _now_."

Frank put his glasses on his blotter. "Councilman Blake," he said sternly, "I assure you, the mayor, the police chief, and all your constituents that _nobody_ wants this ended and justice served more than I do."

"Hopefully, it _will_ end tonight," Blake said. "I received an anonymous tip this morning that the Green Hornet will be at Hogan Park tonight at 11 p.m., by the old drained fountain. What I want you to do is make sure the police are there in force, and that they don't let him leave that park alive when he shows up. Authorize and _encourage_ them to shoot to kill."

One problem Frank had pondered in his mind was how to fulfill Britt's request to see Blake write. The councilman presented him that opportunity. "Mr. Councilman, that is something I simply cannot authorize. The job of the police is to arrest criminals so they can be tried through the judicial system. It is beyond my authority to license the police to 'shoot to kill'. Now, if you want to take responsibility for that order, that's fine." Frank reached for a legal pad and pushed it in Blake's direction. "I'll need it in writing from you, however."

"Gladly!" Blake grabbed the pad and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket. "I hereby authorize the police to use deadly force against the Green Hornet," he read as he wrote. Frank watched Blake hurriedly scribble the words across the paper, the pen in his left hand. "Signed, Mitchell Blake, City Councilman," Blake finished reading and writing simultaneously. He pushed the pad back to Frank. "There's your permission, Scanlon," he said. "Make sure it's carried out." Blake clicked the ballpoint pen closed with his left thumb and shoved the pen angrily back into his pocket. "Good day, Mr. Scanlon," he spat as he stormed out of Frank's office.

Once Blake was clear of Frank's office, Frank picked up his phone and dialed. "Yes, Frank?" he heard on the other end.

"Britt, Blake just left. He is left-handed, all right. Another thing. He said he 'got a tip' that the Green Hornet will be at the drained fountain in Hogan Park tonight at 11."

The Hornet put the phone against his chest and looked over the seat at Kato. "It's Frank. Blake told him we'll be in Hogan Park tonight. He and Morrison _are_ working together." Returning the receiver to his ear, the Hornet said, "Based on what we found at Blake's house, that doesn't surprise me."

"What did you find?"

"Counterfeit hundred dollar bills. Also, we found his 'little black book' that has his victims' names circled. I'll make sure you get that, anonymously, of course."

"What are you going to do about the rendezvous tonight, Britt? It's a trap, and Blake signed your death warrant. He's authorized the police to shoot to kill, no questions asked."

"Don't worry about that, Frank," the Hornet replied. "We have a different appointment tonight. Hopefully the police will nab a Green Hornet tonight, without killing him."


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

A small brick house in a quiet neighborhood was the destination of the Black Beauty. The streets in this older section of town had no driveways from the street; rather, alleys behind the houses allowed access to garages behind the homes. Kato took full advantage of the alleyway and stopped the car directly behind the address that Mitchell Blake had written on a piece of paper in his den earlier that morning. The clock in the dash of the Black Beauty read 7:20.

The Hornet looked at the back of the house. The house was single story, a rear door near the left hand side of the house from the Hornet's vantage point. He could see a couple of lights on inside the home. "Let's go," he said to Kato. The two men left the car in unison and walked side by side to the back door. The Hornet tried the door and found it locked. Kato kicked the door open. The Hornet went in but Kato stayed outside.

Paula Davis heard the noise as she was preparing for work. She was a pretty brunette dressed in a nurse's uniform. She had finished dressing when she heard the noise. Her first reaction was to turn the light off in the bedroom where she was dressing then peek out the window from behind the curtain to see if she saw anyone outside. After she saw nothing she went down the hall to the living room. She stopped near the front door. A vase sat on a table in the foyer. She picked the vase up with both hands in anticipation of someone coming through the door.

"No need to break that," the Hornet said from behind the woman, taking the vase quickly out of her hands. He sat the vase back on the table before clasping his gloved left hand over the woman's mouth, muffling her scream. He put his right index finger to his lips. "Relax," he said gently, "I am not going to hurt you. Are you Paula Davis?" The woman nodded, terror in her eyes as she stared at the man in the green mask.

Kato ran in from outside. "The car just pulled up on the street," he announced.

"Miss Davis," the Hornet said, "do you have a closet or a room we can hide in?" She nodded as tears began welling in her eyes. "Where?" She pointed down the hall. The Hornet moved behind her and guided her in the direction she had pointed, his hand still over her mouth. She stopped in front of a door. "Where's your bedroom?" he asked. She gestured to the room directly across the hall.

Kato took off his cap and extended it toward the Hornet. He took the hat with his right hand. Kato went into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. The Hornet released the woman's mouth and opened the door to the utility closet. He gestured for her to go inside first then followed her in. He pushed the door almost completely shut behind him, allowing a small crack between the door and the jam to peer into the hall. After a moment the crash of a window was heard, followed by footsteps on the hardwood floor echoing through the hall.

The door directly across from the utility room was opened and the light turned on in a single move. "The Green Hornet is here to see you!" The form in bed did not move, so the man again called, "The Green Hornet is here to see you!"

"The Green Hornet?" came a muffled voice from the bed. Kato rolled over to face the man identifying himself as the Green Hornet. "I have a boss by that name!" Before the man could react Kato came out of the bed with a flying kick to his head, knocking the green hat to the floor. The man raised his left hand with the blade of the knife extending in Kato's direction. Kato had his speed and the additional factor of having surprised the man to stop any attack with the knife. He chopped the man's left hand with his own, the knife dropping harmlessly to the floor as the force of Kato's blow caused the grip on the knife to fail. Kato put the full force of his body and the pent-up anger he felt on his partner's behalf behind his foot and applied a blow to the man's chest. He backpedaled, slamming against the wall. Kato relentlessly punched and kicked until the man fell motionless onto the floor. After the man fell to the floor Kato stood over his fallen form and angrily shouted, "Move! I dare you!" After a moment of no movement, Kato called toward the door on the other side of the hall, "Okay."

The Hornet stepped back from the door and opened it. He motioned for Paula to leave the utility room first. The two went into the bedroom where Kato stood ready to attack over the fallen man dressed as the Green Hornet. The Hornet extended the chauffeur's cap in Kato's direction. Kato dropped his attack pose, accepted the hat, and placed it back on his head. He leaned down and rolled the man onto his back. He was dressed exactly like the man who stood next to the hyperventilating nurse.

"Miss Davis," the Hornet said, leaning down and pulling the green mask off the man's face, "do you know him?" Paula was too shocked to answer. She appeared near the point of fainting, so the Hornet dropped the mask onto the man's chest and put his arm around Paula's shoulder to support her. "Are you alright?" he asked. Paula exhaled, putting her hand to her head before nodding affirmatively. The Hornet gestured toward the floor. "Do you recognize that man?"

Paula studied the man's face. At first she shook her head, but the face registered. "I don't know his name," she said, the terror in her voice obvious, "but I think I went out with him once."

"Mitch Blake," Kato offered.

Paula nodded. "That's the name. I did go out with him once. He was…"

"A creep?" the Hornet finished. He released the woman's shoulder. "If you'll excuse us, Miss Davis, we'll get him out of here and take care of him."

The whirlwind of events happened so quickly Paula scarcely had time to digest everything that had occurred. As things gelled in her mind, she took a long look at the Hornet. "You're the real Green Hornet," she said, "and that story in the paper was true."

"Yes," the Hornet replied. "Whatever you think of the Green Hornet, Miss Davis, I _do not_ attack women. Not now, not ever." The Hornet pulled his Hornet Gun out of his pocket and shot a quick puff of Hornet Gas under Blake's nose. "We're going to make sure this man never attacks another woman, too."

"How can I thank you?" she said with sudden admiration for the Hornet. "You probably saved my life."

"We need a little time with him," the Hornet said. "If you would, please, don't call the cops until after 11 p.m. tonight."

Paula nodded. "You got it," she assured enthusiastically. She offered her hand to the Hornet, who shook it with a nod of his head. "And, if you would do me a favor?"

"Yes?"

"I'm a nurse at Municipal Hospital. One of his victims from this week is on my ward. Hurt him once for me, and once for her."

"My pleasure, Miss Davis."

* * *

Mitchell Blake's senses began returning to him as the effects of the Hornet Gas dissipated. The first thing he felt was cool concrete hard against his back. All he could remember upon first waking was the after-effects of the fight. His chest, stomach, right jaw, and left wrist throbbed varying degrees of pain. He opened his eyes as he tried to organize the events of the evening in his mind. A 100-watt light bulb, situated over his face, insulted his eyes, causing him to slam his eyelids shut. An attempt to rub the pain from his eyes revealed the fact that Blake's arms were immobilized. Blake turned his head to the right to minimize the trauma from the light to his eyes. He opened his eyes, allowing a moment of adjustment before trying to investigate his surroundings. A rope attached to his wrist held his right arm straight out perpendicular to his body. He tried to move, discovering that ropes also secured his feet. The ropes were anchored to trunks weighed down with cinder blocks.

One floor above where Blake lay, Britt Reid sat behind the desk in his den, the phone in his gloved hand. The green fedora and mask lay on the blotter in front of him as he waited for an answer on the phone.

"Hello?"

"Miss Case? How soon can you be at my house?"

"Five minutes. Why?"

"I need your help."

"I'm on my way."

"Use the elevator," Britt advised. "We're dressed."

Casey understood Britt's warning. "Yes, sir."

After Casey hung up the phone, Britt dialed another number. "Scanlon."

"Frank?"

"Yes, Britt?"

"We caught the Green Hornet. It's Blake, all right."

"Great! Where is he?"

"In the storage room in my basement. Tied up."

Frank felt a twinge of concern shoot through him. He always knew Britt as an even-tempered man; however, the attacks on women had produced a level of anger in Britt that Frank had never previously seen in his friend, especially after Casey suffered the knife wound. "Britt," he said solemnly, "a word of advice, as an attorney and a pal. Be careful what you do to him. I know you're mad, but an eye for an eye…"

"I'm not going to do anything to him, Frank," Britt interrupted. "I'm going to let that threat in Mike's article yesterday and Blake's own imagination do most of the work for me. I'll have him at the fountain in Hogan Park by 10:30 tonight. That's where you come in. Make sure no one _does_ shoot to kill."

"That's not going to be easy, Britt. Not with a lot of cops anxious to win a pot of money." The alarm went off in the den. Frank heard the tone over the phone and asked. "Who's that?"

"Casey," Britt replied. "She's going to help us put the screws to Blake."

"I'll be waiting to hear from you," Frank said before they hung up.

Kato, also devoid of his mask and hat, appeared at the entrance to the den from the living room. "He's awake," he announced.

Britt spun around in his chair and tilted the three books to activate the hidden entrance. "Good," he said, "and just in time."

Kato went to the elevator and offered his hand to assist Casey out of the cage. She took his hand with a smile of gratitude. Once Casey cleared the elevator Britt moved the books back to their original position. Casey wore a dark skirt and short sleeve white blouse. Only two bandages covered the deeper wounds to her arm. Other areas of the trail the knife had drawn were scarcely visible.

Britt picked up his hat and mask and joined Casey and Kato in front of the fireplace. He gently took her left arm to inspect the improvement. "How's it feeling?" he asked.

"Not bad," Casey replied. "What do you need me for?"

"We're going to engage in a little psychological torture of your attacker," Britt explained.

Kato showed the mask identical to Britt's. "The eyes are sealed up," he said. Putty filled the eyes of the mask in Kato's hand.

"Good." He slid his own mask on before putting the hat on his head. "Let's go."

Blake's head faced away from the door when the Hornet opened it. Blake's head, the only part of his body he could move, turned at the sound of the door. His heart leapt into his throat when he saw the Green Hornet through the bright fog courtesy of the light over his head.

The Hornet adjusted the lamp. A long gooseneck desk lamp sat on a table approximately four feet behind Blake, the light aimed directly on Blake's face. The Hornet pointed the light toward the wall. Blake instinctively reached for his eyes but was prohibited by the ropes on his wrists. He resorted to blinking his eyes hard a few times to alleviate the discomfort. A tape recorder and microphone also sat on the table, as was the weapon used in the attacks that had been retrieved when Blake was caught at Paula Davis's home.

"Well, well," the Hornet said, walking back and forth directly above where Blake's head lay on the floor. He deliberately aimed his steps to come as close to Blake's head as possible without actually making contact. With each echo of the Hornet's shoes in Blake's ears the man flinched. "Who would have guessed that the 'Green Hornet' is actually a city councilman?"

"Let me out of here," Blake said in a whispered gasp, "and I'll…"

"You'll do _nothing_," the Hornet interrupted. "Perhaps you don't read the paper. I told Mike Axford that you'd be better off if the cops got you." The Hornet leaned over, his face upside down over Blake's. "And I _meant_ it."

"Listen, I can pay you anything…"

The Hornet pulled one of the counterfeit bills he had lifted at Blake's house out of his pocket. He dropped it onto Blake's chest. "In these phony hundreds? You think I don't know about you and Harold Morrison?"

A look of shock crossed Blake's face. "How did you find out?"

"I make it my business to find a lot of things out. _Especially_ when a supposed 'partner' is conspiring with a crooked councilman to put _my_ neck in a noose." The Hornet walked the length of Blake's secured body, maintaining the careful placement of his steps near Blake. A couple of times his foot came down on the green overcoat Blake wore but missed flesh. The Hornet turned around and stopped with a foot on either side of Blake's outstretched right arm. He knelt down to look Blake in the eye. "I'll deal with Morrison tonight. The question is, what to do with you."

"Please, don't. I'll give you anything…"

"Shut up!" the Hornet snapped. A smile crossed the Hornet's face, which sent fear reverberating through Blake. "I know _exactly_ what to do with you. I'm going to allow one of your victims to have first shot at you. That way, there won't be much for me to do except sweep up the pieces."

Blake managed a smirk that was obviously tinged with fear rather that defiance. "You wouldn't do that."

The Hornet stuck his index and middle fingers under Blake's tie and collar and jerked his head off the concrete. "For someone who's spent this week impersonating the Green Hornet, you certainly don't know much about what he'd do." He released Blake's collar, causing Blake's head to drop to the concrete floor with a thud. Shivers went down Blake's back, the result of the Hornet's words and tone rather than the bump to the back of his head. The Hornet stood and looked toward the door. "Kato!"

Kato appeared from behind the door where he had been waiting for the Hornet's call. "Yes?"

"Would you escort Miss Case in, please?" Kato nodded and left the room, returning almost immediately with Casey. A blindfold was over her eyes. Kato guided her to a stop near Blake's feet and removed the blindfold.

"Miss Case," the Hornet said, "I want to offer my apologies for bringing you here in this manner. However, when I explain why I brought you, I don't think you'll object."

Casey feigned the fear that had really permeated her the night before. She appeared confused as her gaze shifted between the two men dressed identically save for the mask missing from Blake's face. "Two Green Hornets?" she said.

The Hornet gestured to the man on the floor. "This is the man who put that 'beauty mark' on your arm last night with that knife." He gestured to the knife on the table. "I invited you here, as it were, to give you the opportunity to reciprocate."

Casey's face lit up. "With pleasure!" she seethed, starting toward the table. Kato stopped her by lightly securing her right arm in his grasp.

Blake was frantic. He had only one option to attempt to save himself from Casey's fury, and that was to create doubt. "He's the one who attacked you!" Blake protested. "I mean, how can you tell? It's my word against his, and I _am_ a city councilman."

"Fair question," the Hornet admitted. He leaned against the trunks that secured the ropes holding Blake's right arm taut. "Miss Case, thanks to that crusading newspaper you work for, you have had a number of encounters in the past with the Green Hornet."

"Several," Casey confirmed.

"So, ask a question about any of those previous encounters. Whoever can correctly answer your question is obviously the real Green Hornet, and the one you can believe." The Hornet looked down at Blake. "Do _you_ have any objection to that test?"

Blake sighed, realizing he was in a no-win situation. Kato handed the mask Blake had worn during his spree to the Hornet. He then stepped into Blake's field of vision. The black-clad chauffeur dangled a pair of nunchucks noisily in his right hand, a smile on his face.

The Hornet roughly shoved the mask onto Blake's face. "Hey," Blake said once the mask was in place, "I can't see."

"That's right, Blake," the Hornet said. "If you don't see who does what to you, you can't very well testify against them, can you? Now, you've got one minute to tell me everything," the Hornet said. "Or else."

"About what?"

Kato let out a shout and cracked the nunchucks on the floor just above Blake's head. "You're just digging yourself a deeper hole with me by playing stupid," the Hornet said while Blake hyperventilated in response to Kato's actions. "Kato, let Miss Case use those nunchucks."

"But they can be very dangerous in the hands of someone who doesn't know how to properly use them," Kato observed with a smile.

The Hornet snorted a laugh. "I don't see your point."

"You're right." Kato clanked the nunchucks again.

"No, please!" Blake shouted. "I'll tell you everything!"

The Hornet turned the tape recorder on and dangled the microphone by its cord over the side of the table so it hung over Blake's head. "I'm the phony Green Hornet," Blake confessed. "Keith Patrick is moving his counterfeit operation here from St. Louis, and he offered us a million dollars…"

"Who's 'us'?" the Hornet interrupted.

"Harold Morrison and me," Blake clarified, moving his head in the direction of the sound of the voice even though he could not see through the filled eyes in the mask. "We are to collect a million dollars for getting the real Green Hornet out of the way."

"Why?" Casey asked.

"Keith Patrick knows how the Green Hornet works. So does Morrison. He tries to muscle in on established jobs, and Patrick and Morrison didn't want him moving in on the counterfeiting operation. We devised a plan to make the Hornet so hated that the police would stop at nothing to hunt him down. I volunteered to go out as the Green Hornet and attack some women." Even in his hapless position Blake managed a cocky smile. "I had some women that had turned me down on dates, so I had a list of people to get even with. Then, I'd use my position on the city council to authorize the police to shoot to kill the Green Hornet. We have a rendezvous set up for tonight. Bang! Everyone's happy."

"When's Patrick arriving? And where?"

"Tonight," Blake replied. "I don't know where. I'm supposed to be at Morrison's at 11 to go pick him up."

"Is that all?" the Hornet asked.

Blake managed to nod his head. "Please, don't hurt me. I've told you everything, I swear."

The Hornet turned the tape recorder off. He leaned over and pulled the mask off Blake's face. "You have to make one more appearance as the Green Hornet, Blake. Tonight, at 11 p.m. at the fountain in Hogan Park."

"No!" Blake shouted. His protest was short-lived, as the Hornet pulled out the Hornet Gun and rendered Blake unconscious with a burst of Hornet Gas just beneath his nose. After Blake's head fell to the right the Hornet smiled. "Good job, Casey," he said. "Kato, get that tape upstairs and make a copy for the police. Make sure to edit our voices off." The Hornet removed the knife from the table and put it in the pocket of Blake's green overcoat.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The Hornet and Kato took Blake's unconscious form to Hogan Park. En route the Hornet played the tape of Blake's voice on the machine in the car, listening intently to the councilman's vocal inflection. Although Blake's tone was slightly higher than the Hornet's, there was no particular accent or intonation the Hornet could pick up on. He rewound the tape onto one reel and put the confession into the pocket of Blake's green overcoat with the knife and the address book containing the circled names of the victims.

"Anything?" Kato asked from the driver's seat.

"Nothing," the Hornet replied. "I'll try to say as little as possible, and hope I don't have to sign anything."

The ropes that had secured Blake in Britt's basement were no longer around his wrists and ankles. The Hornet and Kato removed the sleeping man from the back seat of the Black Beauty and used the ropes to securely tie him to a tree near a fountain that was no longer in use in the park. The time was nearing when police would begin arriving. Because of the urgency to catch the Green Hornet, the concern was that some exceptionally trigger-happy officers might show up early to stake out a good spot from which they could shoot. No police were in the vicinity, however, and the Black Beauty made its escape without notice.

Across town, the clock was not Frank Scanlon's ally. He snapped pencil leads as he sat at his desk, offering a silent prayer that either his phone would ring or the buzzer in the frames of his glasses would go off. _Why are you worried, Frank_, the District Attorney chided himself. _Britt won't go near Hogan Park if he'd be cutting it too close on time._ Frank knew some of the capabilities of the Green Hornet's car. Of primary importance, he knew it was bulletproof. The police department would run out of bullets before any harm would come to the occupants. However, Frank knew that Britt never wanted to see a direct confrontation with the cops. A policeman might act foolishly and end up hurt.

A uniformed policeman knocked on Frank's door, bringing Frank's thoughts out of the park and any possible confrontation. "Yes?" Frank called.

The policeman opened the door. He was a sergeant, a veteran of many years with an expanding waistline that was a veteran of many stereotypical nights in the donut shop. "Are you ready to go, sir?"

Frank looked at his watch. The time was just past 10:30 p.m. _Oh, Britt, please call before I leave_, he heard in his voice in his mind. "Give me a few more minutes, Sergeant," Frank said.

"I can't wait to get the Green Hornet," the sergeant said.

"Sergeant," Frank said, "I understand that there is a 'pot of money' that's been collected this week to go to whoever guns down the Green Hornet."

"Yes, sir," the officer freely admitted.

"May I remind you that such an action is against the law. I want the Green Hornet tried in court, not in the park. Tell your men, Sergeant. Anyone who shoots without provocation is subject to prosecution."

The police officer scowled at Frank's recitation of legal facts. "Yes, sir, Mr. District Attorney," he snapped, the disdain for the command to follow the rules apparent in his voice. He slammed Frank's door as he left.

Frank took another look at his watch. He gave a passing thought to trying Britt's home phone number. The phone on his desk ringing disrupted that thought. "Scanlon," Frank answered almost before he had the phone to his ear.

"The Green Hornet is tied to a tree near the old fountain at Hogan Park," the Hornet advised from the phone in the Black Beauty. "You'll find a taped confession and plenty of evidence in his pockets."

"Thanks." Frank hung the phone up without acknowledging that he knew who he was talking to. He bolted out the door. "Come on, Sergeant," he said to the impatient policeman sitting in Frank's secretary's otherwise unoccupied office.

Frank and the sergeant arrived at Hogan Park first. Three other police cars, sirens blaring and lights flashing, followed in close proximity. Frank took the microphone on the police radio and broadcast, "This is the District Attorney. Do not – repeat, **_do not_** – shoot on sight."

The car with Frank inside and another police car reached the fountain simultaneously. The two policemen in the second car jumped out in unison, squatting behind their open car doors with their service revolvers drawn. The headlights from the car Frank was in showed a figure sitting at the base of a tree, the head and neck slumped over. Frank led the three policemen to the form. "The Green Hornet!" the youngest of the policemen said. The sergeant had a flashlight with him and put light on the man. The law enforcement officials could see the ropes securing the man to the tree, wrapped numerous times across the chest and under the armpits.

"We got him!" the sergeant said enthusiastically. He pumped both fists into the air in jubilation. "We've finally caught the Green Hornet!"

A third car arrived. Two policemen and Mike Axford stepped out. The police joined the crowd at the tree first. As Mike caught up to the officers he heard the excited murmuring and a number of men saying almost reverently, "Look, the Green Hornet!"

The Hornet Gas's effect on Blake ended. Blake slowly regained consciousness. He raised his head and discovered that he was still unable to see because of the putty blocking his vision through the mask. "Where am I?" he mumbled, realizing he was now in a seated position instead of lying on a floor as he had been when he fell into the involuntary sleep.

Frank made the announcement. "Green Hornet, you are under arrest." He smiled at the policemen around him. "I was beginning to think I'd never live to say that."

Mike charged forward, notebook in hand, to take notes on the day he had yearned to see since the first appearance of the Green Hornet in town. He expected to see a corpse, not a man tied helplessly to a tree. "How'd this happen?" he asked Frank.

"We got an anonymous tip," Frank replied. "I must tell you, Mr. Axford, this is the happiest day of my professional career."

"Mine, too!" Mike said. "_Finally_ I can write the headline I've dreamed of – 'Green Hornet Apprehended'!"

Frank smiled. He could scarcely blame the reporter for his jubilation. Frank, however, could not help but feel at twinge of pity for Mike. _Oh, Mike_, Frank thought, _do you have a surprise in store for you_.

* * *

After leaving the park, Kato drove the Hornet to Paula Davis's house. Blake's car was still outside. The Hornet left the security of the Black Beauty and got behind the wheel of Blake's automobile. Blake had left the key in the ignition, ostensibly to make a quick escape after terrorizing the nurse. The Hornet drove toward Harold Morrison's house, Kato tailing him in the Black Beauty.

The Hornet had a microphone transmitter tucked under the band of his watch. In that location it would be out of sight yet able to relay what was being said inside the car back to the Black Beauty. Kato could hear any problems that arose and move in. Plenty stood to go wrong, too. If Morrison asked the man he thought to be Mitchell Blake to unmask, for instance; or, as the Hornet had lamented, someone asking him to write something. The Hornet had attempted to write something with his left hand without any success.

Morrison kept his eyes peeled on the road beyond his gated drive. He sat at attention any time the headlights from an approaching car appeared. After the automobiles went past, he slouched against the back of the seat. Morrison was the sole occupant of the back seat of his blue luxury sedan. Two men were in the front seat. The man in the ubiquitous brown suit who had answered the door for the Hornet and Kato was behind the steering wheel. "Where is he?" Morrison said impatiently. He turned his left wrist in frustration to look at his watch, but the darkness prohibited him from seeing the time.

"You think something happened?" the man behind the wheel asked. "He pushed his luck one time too often?"

As he spoke, Mitchell Blake's car came to a stop at the gate. The two cars were facing each other on opposite sides of the drive with the security gate between them. Morrison motioned to the guard minding the controls to open the gate. The car passed through and pulled to a stop just past the trunk of Morrison's car. The engine died, the headlights went dark, and the door opened seemingly simultaneously. Morrison threw open the left rear car and scooted to the right. "You're late," Morrison complained to the new occupant.

The Hornet had devised a plan to cover the discrepancy between his and Blake's voices. The worst it could do was fail, allowing Keith Patrick to escape. "Sorry," he said in a raspy voice. After closing the car door he put his hand to his throat as if trying to soothe pain. "Nurse Davis hit me in the throat."

"We need another car," Morrison said. The Hornet held the keys up. Morrison tapped the man in the front passenger seat on the shoulder. In response he got out and took the keys from the Hornet. He went to Blake's car and started it, speeding away for a moment before returning after reversing directions in the semi-circle in front of the house.

"Drive," Morrison instructed the driver. He turned to the Hornet and asked, "Are you okay?"

"I will be. That's why I'm late. I had to give some extra…" _Left hand, Britt!_ ran through the Hornet's mind. In response to the command to himself, the Hornet gestured with his left hand as if he were stabbing with a knife. "…Payback," he finished, twisting an imaginary dagger.

"I hope you had fun," Morrison said. "The real Green Hornet should be getting pumped full of lead about now." He laughed then leaned forward. "Turn the radio on," he instructed the man in the front seat. "I want to hear the news."

The driver turned the radio on in time to hear the end of the news bulletin. The Hornet recognized the voice of the DSTV news anchor as it came through the speaker in the dash. "Repeating this news bulletin, _Daily Sentinel_ reporter Mike Axford is on the scene and confirms that the Green Hornet was apprehended tonight in Hogan Park. More details as they become available. This has been a special bulletin from the newsroom of the _Daily Sentinel_. We return you now to your regular programming."

Morrison clasped his hands together in celebration. "Congratulations, Mitch," he said, turning to shake the hand of the man next to him, "our plan worked like a charm. As soon as we pick Keith Patrick up we'll have a million dollars to split between us."

The Hornet maintained the ruse of an injured throat. "That will make the pain go away much quicker," he said.

Only one person in the car knew the car was being monitored. The microphone the Hornet had secured between his wrist and watchband broadcast every word back to the Black Beauty. Additionally, the scanner hovered overhead in the event that Kato lost visual contact with the car. He kept his distance behind Morrison's vehicle, ready to move in immediately should something go wrong. When Kato heard one of the occupants of the car say, "Shouldn't you get out of those clothes, Councilman Blake?" he prepared to speed up.

"I didn't bring a change of clothes," the Hornet replied, "because of the delay at Nurse Davis's house."

Morrison reached over the seat and joyously slapped the shoulder of the driver. "Don't worry about it," he said. "If anyone's at the airfield who might recognize me or Mr. Patrick…well, it might not look so good if a city councilman was spotted with us."

In the two separate cars, the Hornet and Kato smiled simultaneously, grateful that Morrison had unwittingly provided an excuse for the clothes.

Word of the Green Hornet's capture soared through various media outlets like a Lear jet. Most of the media gathered at the police station, awaiting the arrival of the notorious criminal who had eluded the police for so long. The one exception, the man with the scoop, was Mike Axford. Mike was at Frank Scanlon's office with the police, as joyous as a child on Christmas morning who had awakened to find everything he had asked for under the tree.

Approximately five miles from Frank's office, Keith Patrick's plane touched down at a private airfield that served cargo companies and the wealthy. Patrick stepped from his plane behind his entourage of four bodyguards. He was a middle-aged man, dressed in an expensive suit with an equally expensive cigar in his mouth. His expanded waistline showed the side effects of the good life he was accustomed to living.

The two cars were parked near a hangar, waiting for the plane to stop and the passengers to disembark. Morrison left the car, leaving the Hornet with the driver in the front seat. The man who had driven Blake's car left his car after parking, joining his cohort at Morrison's car to await orders. The Hornet watched from his position in the back seat as Morrison went to the stairs at the plane and warmly shook Patrick's hand. Patrick carried a briefcase in his left hand as he walked toward the car. Kato was on the airport property as well. Thanks to the scanner he knew where the Hornet was, and he maneuvered the Black Beauty toward the hangar.

"Come on," Morrison said to Patrick, walking to the car. "I want you to hear the news about the Green Hornet."

"The Green Hornet's in the back seat of your car," Patrick observed.

"Nah, that's my friend at City Hall, Councilman Blake," Morrison explained. "He went on a little crime spree, and…"

"This is a bulletin from the _Daily Sentinel_ newsroom," the voice on the radio said, interrupting the soft jazz music that was playing.

Morrison slapped the driver on the arm. "Turn that up so Mr. Patrick can hear for himself."

The volume was increased. "We have an update on the capture of the Green Hornet, which occurred earlier this evening at Hogan Park."

"You did it!" Patrick said to Morrison with a slap and a smile. "I can't believe it!"

"According to _Sentinel_ reporter Mike Axford, the Green Hornet has been arraigned at the office of the District Attorney," the newscaster continued. "Although the District Attorney will have a news conference tomorrow to officially 'unmask' this notorious criminal, the reporter on the scene at the D.A.'s office when the Green Hornet was unmasked reports that he is none other than city councilman Mitchell Blake."

_Mike, you blabbermouth,_ the Hornet thought. The entourage was gathered around the driver's door to hear the news through the window that had been rolled down. The Hornet moved across the back seat and jumped out of the right rear seat. He lifted his wrist to his mouth and said into the transmitter, "Now, Kato!" In the back of his mind he knew he Kato was listening and needed no notification that things had turned bad. Kato was indeed listening, and had the Black Beauty in gear before the Hornet made the call for his partner to move in.

The announcement took a moment to register with the crowd. By the time they came to the collective realization that the man in the car was the real Green Hornet, the Hornet was on the pavement, ready for the impending attack. In total, six henchmen of the two kingpins stood around the car after the driver got out. The Hornet backed away from the car just slightly in order to give himself some room to work.

Morrison and Patrick's foot soldiers split up, three going around the hood and the other three walking the length of the car to the trunk. When the men arrived at the trunk the Black Beauty roared to a screeching stop near the plane. Kato emerged and walked toward the battlefield. He went for the closer group near the back end of Morrison's car. Seeing which half Kato was allocating for himself, the Hornet charged toward the men in front.

One of the men in Kato's group smiled at the sight of the slight, not overly tall man in a mask coming at them. At least eight inches taller than Kato, he decided to meet the man who was obviously looking for a fight. The man, being one of Patrick's men from St. Louis, had no idea what he was walking into. Kato welcomed the man's advance, greeting him with a kick to the chest. The two other men charged as their comrade doubled over in pain. Kato had a similar introduction for each man. One received a hand to the chest while the other got a foot to the face.

The first man tried again. His swinging fist was blocked before Kato gave him three punches. As he landed the third punch another man came at him. The attacking man, thinking Kato was solely interested in the man in front of him, walked right into Kato's outstretched right foot. Each blow landed was accompanied with a shout. The three men had no way to overcome Kato's skill and power, even though they each made another attempt. By the time the last man hit the ground they had each felt the sole of Kato's shoe on their face and his open hands on their stomachs and necks.

The Hornet faced three angry men attacking simultaneously. The man who had been behind the wheel came first with a doubled fist. The Hornet sidestepped the swing and punched the man in the stomach. He grabbed the man's arm and used him as a blocker, throwing him into the path of an oncoming attacker. The two men tumbled over each other onto the asphalt. The third man exchanged a couple of fists before the Hornet showed that, although not versed in martial arts, he too knew how to apply his foot to an oncoming attacker's stomach. The Hornet hit the doubled over man on the neck, sending him to the ground.

One of the two men recovered and tackled the Hornet. The Hornet landed on his back on the ground. Morrison, seeing the Hornet down, jumped behind the wheel of the car and started toward the Hornet. The Hornet in one swift motion removed the Hornet Sting from his inside pocket, engaged the mechanism, and fired at the grille of the car. The first thing to suffer the effects of the Hornet Sting was the radiator, followed almost immediately by the latch that kept the hood secured. Steam from the radiator billowed up as the hood flew open. With Morrison's vision blocked the Hornet was able to roll out of the way to safety. Morrison brought the car to a stop, unable to see his target and unwilling to accidentally take out one of his own men in the process.

The third man who had fought the Hornet stood and pulled a gun out. The Hornet saw the gun and took it out with another blast from the Hornet Sting. As the Hornet got to his feet his peripheral vision caught the man he had doubled over with the kick to the stomach coming at him again. He used the Hornet Sting again, this time the way a policeman would use his baton to stop a charging criminal. The man ran into the fat end of the Hornet Sting and stopped as the pain to his stomach registered. The Hornet stood him up and punched him in the face, causing the man to fall backwards. The Hornet returned the Hornet Sting to its normal length and jammed it back into his inside pocket as he looked around for anyone else who wanted to fight. None of the three men he had engaged were able to get off the ground to try.

Morrison was still behind the wheel of the disabled car. Patrick, clutching his briefcase, had been a bystander. Seeing that his side was losing he made a break for Blake's car. Morrison climbed out of the car to join Patrick in the dash to the remaining mode of transportation they had at their disposal. Kato went for the Black Beauty at the same time. Morrison and Patrick reached the car before Kato arrived at the Black Beauty, with Morrison getting behind the wheel; however, they were unable to escape before Kato drove the Black Beauty into their path.

The Hornet approached, the Hornet Gun in his right hand. Morrison and Patrick watched helplessly. When the Hornet neared the car Morrison pleaded through the open window, "Listen, Hornet, can't we talk?"

"We _could_ talk," the Hornet replied, "but we're not going to." The Hornet put the Hornet Gun to the window and pulled the trigger. Morrison expected bullets in retaliation for his attempt to set the Hornet up for arrest or possible death at the hands of the police. Instead, the green gas filled the car, rendering both men unconscious. The Hornet tucked his weapon away and waited for the gas to dissipate before walking to the passenger's door. He opened the door and pried the briefcase from Patrick's arms. Inside he found piles of money and plates used to press counterfeit money. He smiled, closed the briefcase, and put it back into Patrick's grip.

As he walked toward the Black Beauty the Hornet looked over his shoulder at the men on the tarmac. The six men they had engaged in hand-to-hand combat were all motionless. He opened the left rear door. He reached inside for the telephone, picked up the receiver, and hit a button.

The fact that his private line was ringing told Frank who was on the other end of the phone. Most of the policemen in his office were chatting with Mike, giving quotes about the relief of having the Green Hornet off the streets at long last. The pudgy sergeant lamented, off the record, that the criminal had not engaged in resistance or some other action that would have necessitated shooting him down in self-defense.

"Scanlon," Frank answered the phone.

"I hear you've had a good night," the Hornet said, sitting on the seat with his feet outside of the car.

"I have indeed," Frank said.

"Want it to get better? Come to the private cargo airfield. You'll find Harold Morrison, Keith Patrick, their crew, and the counterfeit plates."

"And it's not even my birthday," Frank said. "I'll be right over."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Mike wanted the entire length and width of page one of the _Sentinel_'s morning edition to be nothing but the headline, "Green Hornet Caught." Britt vetoed the idea. Too much news surrounding the previous evening's events had to go onto page one. Nevertheless, the words had sufficient space beneath the _Sentinel_'s banner. The question mark Britt ordered on the headline bothered Mike, who was confident the police had nabbed their man. Still, a sub headline indicated that Blake denied being the real Green Hornet. Mike's article was on the left half of page one. On the right side, Britt's editorial about Mitchell Blake's hypocrisy served as a preface to the editorial Blake had written and sent to Britt just hours before Blake's tenure as the Green Hornet was terminated.

Frank knew the police had not apprehended the Green Hornet. He never wanted to see that day arrive. Had it not been for the Green Hornet a counterfeiting operation would have set up shop in town. Instead, a total of nine men were in jail, a surplus of charges and evidence awaiting them when they had their day in court. Still, he enjoyed the moment of glory, short-lived though it was, as praise poured in from all over the city and state upon the news of the capture of the Green Hornet.

Frank sat in Britt's office, reading the words Blake had written attacking the District Attorney and the _Sentinel_ publisher regarding the Green Hornet. He finished the editorial with a shake of his head, pulling his glasses off his face and holding them and the paper in his right hand. "Unbelievable," he said.

"I couldn't let that editorial go unpublished," Britt said with a smile.

"I'm glad you ran it," Frank admitted.

"How's the interrogation going?" Britt asked.

"They can't stop 'ratting' on each other," Frank said. "The punch line about the deal Patrick made with Morrison and Blake to pay for the Green Hornet's arrest or demise…"

"The money he was going to pay was counterfeit?" Britt guessed.

Frank nodded. "When Morrison and Blake found that out, they turned on each other, and both turned on Patrick. The hardest part now is deciding who gets to prosecute them first, the federal boys, the state, or me."

Britt saw movement in Casey's office through the window. Mike entered her office from the city room. "Poor Mike," Britt mused with a smile and a twinkle in his eye that betrayed his spoken lament for his employee.

Frank laughed. "Let him enjoy it while he can, Britt."

"Good morning!" Mike sang as he opened Britt's door. Casey followed him in, ostensibly to protest his entering the publisher's office without permission, but also to watch him gloat. She wanted to soak in the joy Mike exhibited so she could remind him that Britt had warned him not to be too overconfident about the imprisonment of the Green Hornet the next time the Green Hornet showed up. Her left arm still sported a couple of bandages, but the healing process was well underway.

"Isn't it a lovely morning?" Mike continued, almost dancing through Britt's office to the publisher's desk.

"You're not going to retire, are you, Mike?" Britt asked. "I know you said you'd retire the day the Green Hornet was caught, but I don't…"

"Yep," Mike said. "I can die happy now."

"Mike," Frank said, putting the paper on Britt's desk as he stood and slid his glasses back on his face, "I think you should think twice about that. We have a taped confession from Blake and two other people who swear he's _not_ the Green Hornet."

"Mr. Scanlon," Mike said, "if _you_ were the Green Hornet and you were facing the list of charges he's facing, you'd say anything to get out of it, wouldn't you?"

"You have a point, Mike," Frank said, "but…"

Casey's outer door opened and a flower deliveryman entered, a vase crammed with roses in his hands. The noise and movement interrupted the conversation in Britt's office. The man walked tentatively to Britt's open door and peered inside. "Excuse me," he said, "I'm looking for Miss Case."

"I'm Miss Case," Casey said.

The deliveryman was very young, most likely just out of high school judging by his pimply face. "These are for you," he said, extending the vase in her direction.

"For me?"

"Yes. They're from the Green Hornet."

"The Green Hornet?" Mike spewed. The words deflated him like a hatpin to a balloon.

"I've never been so scared in my life!" the young man said.

"What happened?" Britt asked. Frank marveled at Britt's ability to keep a straight face.

"I was in the flower shop this morning, about an hour ago," the man said. "I was opening the store, and in walked the Green Hornet! I thought he was going to kill me. Instead, he ordered four dozen roses to be sent to those women who were attacked this week by that guy who was arrested last night. He paid for them and left." The young man raised his eyebrows as if impressed by the Hornet's appearance. "He's certainly a good tipper, I'll say that."

Casey sat the flowers on Britt's desk and opened the card sitting amid the roses. "'Thanks for your help in getting rid of the phony Green Hornet'," Casey read aloud, "'and get well soon. The Green Hornet.'" She smiled. "Isn't that nice?"

"No, it's **_NOT_** nice!" Mike snorted. He stomped toward the door, the deliveryman scurrying out of his way.

"Mike?" Britt called. The reporter stopped and turned. "Want me to keep your retirement notice for another time?" Mike replied by throwing his hands in the air in defeat before leaving the office.

The trio waited until the delivery boy was clear of Casey's outer office door before breaking into laughter. Britt shook his head. "I tried to warn him," he mused.

"He'll get over it," Frank prophesied as he turned to leave. "I know I will." He laughed as he left with a wave of his hands.

Casey picked up her vase and headed for her office to resume her work and to allow Britt to start on his day's activities. As she reached the door she turned back to her boss, happy to see the sparkle back in his eyes. "Thanks for the roses, Mr. Reid."

The End


End file.
